


Grudges

by WayWardWonderer



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: ASSAULTED, Abduction, Accident, Ambushed, Attacked, CPR, Case, Connor whump, Gen, Grudge, Hank Whump, Hurt, Kidnapped, Mystery, Past, Poison, Rescue, Save, Whump, Wounded, abandoned, abducted, dying, gavin whump, hostage, incident, injured
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 14:58:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19087375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WayWardWonderer/pseuds/WayWardWonderer
Summary: A convicted 'red ice' dealer from Hank's past ambushed Hank and Connor on their way home from the precinct and takes Connor hostage, and then Gavin, to get even with the seasoned detective.  Injured and unsure of where to begin Hank has to find and rescue Connor before his partner is killed by a vengeful criminal in a petty act of revenge.





	Grudges

Idling at a red light Hank swore under his breath and ran his strong hand over the back of his tense neck with relentless fatigue. Fighting the urge to run through the light he glanced over at Connor, his deviant partner and adopted son, and could tell by the dull gleam of his otherwise bright soulful brown eyes that he too was tired after such a long day. Despite the mutual fatigue Hank knew Connor would never admit to being tired and decided to ask him if he had an update on the deviant case they worked on that afternoon.

"Any word on the deviant from the facility?"

"Not yet." Turning his head slightly he faced Hank and gave him a slight nod. The lack of the L.E.D. in his right temple made Connor appear far more human, but there were times Hank missed the light since it made it easier to get an idea what was on Connor's mind or what he was feeling. "The wounds were serious but not severe enough to cause irreparable damage or shutdown."

"And his memory?"

"The deviant's statement has remained consistent throughout the numerous examinations and interviews. The damage hadn't affected his memory making his statement completely viable."

"That's good."

The light turned green and Hank pulled through the intersection at a steady clip. Before he could say anything else bright headlights blinded him from the right side of the vehicle, and a loud crunching noise of metal deafened his ears.

All within a matter of seconds the car was t-boned by a large, full-sized S.U.V. that pushed the smaller car out of the lane and up onto the sidewalk. The S.U.V. pinned the struck vehicle up against the brick wall of an old abandoned building with a horrible impact. As the windshield and side windows shattered into a storm of sharp glass Hank felt himself hit the driver's side door to his left, and then jerk forward enough to slam against the steering column as the airbag deployed. The sound of two loud car horns blaring erupted through the previously quiet night as the two vehicles remained wrecked, a twist mangle of metal and glass along the side of the street.

Lifting up his aching head from the airbag Hank pressed his left palm to a massive bleeding cut over his left eye and forehead, and turned to look at Connor in the passenger seat beside him. "What the... Connor? Connor are you okay?"

The deviant beside him was completely unconscious and limp in his seat. If he hadn't been wearing his seatbelt Connor would've either slumped forward entirely against the airbag in front of him, or slipped to the left toward the driver's side of the car and up against Hank.

"Connor?" Gently Hank put his right hand against Connor's chest to check for a heartbeat and felt the deviant's Thirium pump beating normally. Moving his hand under Connor's chin he carefully tilted Connor's head toward his direction so he could see the deviant's blank but bloodied face. "Oh, shit, Connor. I'm sorry."

The artificial skin over Connor's right was missing leaving the white plastimetal frame beneath exposed and covered in fresh Thirium. Bits of glass had cut Connor's face and caused him to bleed from several deep lacerations, and his right shoulder had been dislocated from the impact of the other vehicle.

"Connor?" Calling his name in a loud voice Hank tried to get the wounded deviant to respond. "Connor." Turning slightly in his seat Hank let out a groan of pain as the movement sent a sudden rush of burning pain through his chest. "Fuck!" Pressing his left palm firmly to the center of his chest he breathed slowly and lightly as he noted his recent injuries. "I think I busted a rib..."

Before Hank could make a move for his phone or his radio the S.U.V. backed away from the wrecked car and a firm hand yanked open the passenger side door on Connor's side of the car. The corresponding equally strong hand grabbed onto Connor by the front of his shirt, cut open the seatbelt with a switchblade in the left hand, and then dragged the unconscious deviant out of the car and onto the street.

"Hey!" Trying to follow after Connor the senior detective was stricken with pain and couldn't move more than an inch from his seat. "Don't do that!"

"Shut up! Fucking pig!" A second person reached inside the car from the broken driver's side window, and struck Hank over the back of his head with the butt of the gun in his hand.

As the relentless metal crashed down against the back of Hank's skull he slumped heavily against the airbag a second time. Fighting the urge to lose consciousness Hank watched helplessly as Connor, who was still unconscious and defenseless, was dragged along the street and thrown into the back of the partially wrecked S.U.V. before the two men returned to the front seats of the car to flee the scene of the accident.

"...Connor..." Hank tried to call out to the deviant, but his voice was a raspy whisper that went unheard. Darkness swam over his vision as his lost the fight to remain conscious and his body went limp where he sat. "...Son."

* * *

Captain Fowler was sitting behind his desk and ready to clock out for the night when a call reported to 911 dispatch regarding a car accident was brought to his attention. The car was registered under the name of Hank Anderson, and Captain Fowler's name was still near the top of the list of emergency contacts registered under Hank's name. Staring at the case reported on his terminal screen Captain Fowler ran his hand over his chin and swore at the graphic details that already been collected by the responding officers and fire fighters.

"Damn it. A fuckin' hit and run accident with one of _my_ officers involved." Taking his leave of the office Captain Fowler walked through the bullpen and stopped by Gavin and Tina's desks before heading out to the hospital to check in on Hank. "Anderson was in a car accident. Looks like a hit and run drunk driver t-boned him at an intersection."

Keeping his emotions perfectly masked Gavin asked the obvious question without blinking. "Is he alright?"

"That's what I'm about to find out."

"What about the 'Tinman'?"

"What?"

"Those two always leave together and carpool. Did the plastic break this time, or walk away?"

"...There was no mention of Connor in the report." Sensing absolute dread Captain Fowler made a quick decision and responded professionally in a collected and calm manner. "Alright, you two head out to the scene of the accident and look for any sign of Connor. Chris is already out there on patrol, so have him fill you in on everything that's been confirmed."

"Right." Gavin rose from his seat and motioned for Tina, who didn't need any prompt, to join him. "We're on it, Cap."

* * *

A cool, calm darkness encompassed Hank's mind as his senses slowly returned to him. A dull throb in his skull was accompanied by a burning tight pain in his chest as he felt himself laying over a soft surface. The ringing in his ears gradually silenced until a high-pitched, rhythmic beeping sound became louder and louder right beside his hear. Feeling like he was buried under a dense fog of cement Hank struggled to place his immediate surroundings and what had happened to him as a new sound began to break through the fog.

"...-derson?" A soft female voice began calling out to Hank as a bright light suddenly and painfully burned at his pupils. "Mr. Anderson? Can you hear me?"

"...Y-Yeah." As he spoke he felt a gentle pressure under his nose and recognized it as a nasal canula giving him oxygen. It was then he realized that he was a patient in a hospital. "...I hear ya'."

"Welcome back. You took a severe blow to the head."

Opening his blue eyes, his vision slightly blurry, he looked up at the kind face of his doctor looking over him and making notes in his electronic chart at the side of his bed. "...Connor?"

"Connor?" Repeating the name the doctor gave Hank a truly puzzled glance. "Who's Connor?"

"...My partner." Pressing his left hand to the side of his face, the pulling of the I.V. in the back of his hand made his skin burn a little as he moved, Hank tried to explain things as clearly as he could. "He was in the car with me when we were hit."

"You were the only person the paramedics found at the scene of the accident."

"The other car!" The attempt to bolt upright was immediately stopped as his injured ribs ached and he felt like the breath was being squeezed out of his lungs by an internal pressure. "Ah! Fuckin' hell!"

"Don't move around." The doctor cautioned with a firm but consistently kind voice. "My name is Dr. Brownstone, and I've been taking care of you. You've suffered a mild concussion, three fractured ribs, a fracture to your sternum and hairline fracture of your left orbit. I had to put in fourteen stitches to close the laceration in the back of your skull but I got the wound closed."

"I don't- Where's Connor?"

"I wish I knew. According to the paramedics report," she held up a second tablet with the information provided on the screen. "you were the only occupant of the car. The second car had driven off before anyone arrived at the scene."

"That car has Connor IN it."

Dr. Brownstone's green eyes went wide as she realized the severity of the situation. "...Your partner was abducted."

"Who's the responding officer at the scene? I need to know, NOW."

From behind the privacy curtain Captain Fowler's voice responded in a confident tone upon hearing Hank's question. "Chris arrived first, I then sent out Gavin and Tina to try to figure out what the hell happened to Connor."

"The driver in the other car hit us. They drove through the intersection and hit us directly on the passenger side of the car." Hank wanted to get up and start looking for Connor, but the concussion, pain and I.V. hooked into his hand was keeping him from getting out of the bed. "I... I was dazed but conscious after the impact. Connor was knocked out cold and I couldn't get him to wake up."

"What happened to the other car? Describe it."

"It was an S.U.V., yellow." Hank was able to remember the vehicle more clearly as the fog lifted from his mind and memory. "It was a Vault, either 2036 or 37 model. They... The driver backed the car up then tore open the passenger side door and took Connor!"

"Did you see any faces?"

"...Just a glimpse. One guy stayed back while the other guy walked over to my side of the car and hit me over the back of my head." Pressing his right palm to the back of his sore and stitched up head Hank sighed and swore he could still feel the cold metal against his skin. "It think it was his gun."

"Description of the suspects." Pulling out his electronic notepad Captain Fowler prepared to take notes. "Let's here it."

"Young, late twenties or early thirties. Dark complexion. Shaved head with a goatee. Brown eyes." Hank was struggling to piece the man's face together and was seeing spots dancing over his vision. "He had a gold ring on his right middle finger and a scar on the knuckles of his left hand. White t-shirt with some fresh red blood on the front. I didn't see his friend at all."

"Take it easy for now, Hank." Putting the notepad back into his pocket Captain Fowler gave Hank a subtle nod to try to ease his friend's worries. "We're going to find Connor."

"He's hurt, Jeffrey. You know how hard it is to knock out an android, especially one as stubborn as Connor."

"We'll keep a technician on call and get them to the scene as soon as Connor is found."

"Jeffrey, this was planned. They waited for the car to pull through the intersection before they gunned it." As Dr. Brownstone gently guided him back against the pillow on the bed to rest Hank breathed through his gritted teeth and tried to ignored the flaring pain in his chest and head. "Whoever did this has a personal vendetta against either me or Connor. And I'm willing to bet those assholes deal 'red ice' and want to get back at me for bustin' so many rings in the past."

* * *

Ever the professional and intrigued by the accident itself Gavin stooped down and peered inside the wrecked car with a flashlight and a pair of latex gloves over his hands. It didn't take him long to notice the Thirium stains on the passenger side of the car confirming that an android had in fact been in the car, and a quick analysis of the Thirium by a portable kit confirmed it as Connor's blue blood. Straightening back up he took a step back from the car and checked the exterior where the impact had taken place.

"Fuck me..." Seeing the massive dent and the huge scrapes of yellow paint staining the dark body of Hank's car and the bits of broken glass from the other car's headlight wedged in the metal frame like shrapnel, Gavin just shook his head in disbelief that the other car was able to back away and drive off. "Connor was in here alright, but where the fuck did he go?"

Tina was comparing notes with Chris and walked over to her partner with her own electronic notepad in her hand. "I just got the statement from Captain Fowler at the hospital. According to what Hank said two guys were in the other car. One grabbed Connor and the other cold-cocked Hank in the back of the head with his gun or something like it."

"Shit."

"He also confirmed that the other car was in fact yellow. An S.U.V., most likely a 37-38 Vault."

"You and Chris stay here and take care of the scene. I'm going to circle the neighborhood and see if I can find the big-ass yellow S.U.V. with a smashed in front bumper or headlight."

"Shouldn't you have back-up?"

"For a trip around the neighborhood? No thanks, I don't need a babysitter."

"Pretty sure your wife would disagree..."

"Ha, ha..."

Brushing off the comment Gavin returned to his car and began to drive around the block and ask for patrol to keep an eye out for the vehicle involved in the accident, and informed dispatch that the accident was a hit and run involving two police officers. Once word got out the entire city seemed to go on alert and Gavin passed by a few other patrol cars while his unmarked car drove about without any problem.

Using his phone and one hand he texted Abby at home to let her know he'd be a little late. "Don't wait up, babe. Duty calls."

* * *

Despite his injuries and pain Hank refused to just lay back and wait for Connor to be found, and was adamant in helping with the investigation. Determined to locate the wounded deviant and figure out who had ambushed the car at the intersection Hank resisted the medical team trying to keep him in the bed, and tried to remove the I.V. from the back of his hand and the wireless leads of the nearby cardiac monitor recording his hectic vital signs in order to free himself of the otherwise limiting medical equipment.

"Hank, stay down!" Captain Fowler urged as he put his right hand on Hank's left shoulder to keep the wounded detective from trying to get up. "You were just in a serious car accident, don't move."

"Connor needs help. I know it."

"What're you talking about?"

"He hasn't tried to send a text to me or anyone else at the precinct, or even to New Jericho." Arguing with his commanding officer Hank made sure Captain Fowler knew exactly how serious the situation truly was. "That means he's either still knocked out cold or worse!"

"How do you know that?"

"If Connor made contact with anyone else I would've been told by now, or Markus would've shown up in person to update me on Connor's condition. I know that Connor is still missing and he's hurt."

"And what're you going to do about it?"

"Find him!"

"Hank, you don't even know who attacked you let alone any place to start looking for the bastards."

"He's my son, Jeffrey. You know that." Pulling at the nasal canula under his nose Hank tried to get up again but Captain Fowler wouldn't let him get up at all, and kept his hand firmly planted on Hank's shoulder. "If it were one of your kids out there you'd do anything and everything you could to find them!"

"Don't play that hand with me, Hank. I'm not doing this to be a jackass, I'm doing this because I don't want to see you make yourself worse. Stay here at least until morning."

"Til MORNING?" Pushing Captain Fowler's hand from his shoulder with a firm slap Hank glared daggers at his commanding officer. "I'm not going to lay here and do nothing while Connor's still missing!"

"HANK. Stay down, that's an order! If I have to I'll post security outside your room to keep you from trying to make a break for it. Stay here and heal. I'll work this case myself until he's found." Backing off a little Captain Fowler nodded to Dr. Brownstone and finally let up on holding the wounded detective down. "I swear to it. We WILL find Connor."

* * *

Circling through the neighborhood at a steady clip Gavin didn't see any sign of the car in question, and no updates from dispatch had reported any sign of the vehicle either. Just as he was about to give up and return to the scene of the accident and reunite with Tina he caught sight of broken glass glistening on the street, and some flakes of yellow paint shining off the glass shards that were practically glowing on the dark pavement.

"Finally." Getting out of the car Gavin reported the sighting to dispatch and walked along the street to try to find the trail of glass on foot. The faint trail led down a narrow alleyway toward an off-road that was off limits to the public, and seemed to be barred off to keep trespassers at bay. "What's this?"

Walking down the isolated road Gavin saw that the double gates that barred the street were seemingly locked, but had been recently opened. Attentively he checked the thick chain and padlock that was supposed to keep the gate locked and noted some interesting details. The chain had been tampered with and the lock itself would no longer remain secure due to external and internal damage.

"Fucking hell." Back off from the gate Gavin tried to see the building on the other side and quickly put two and two together. "This is where they've been hiding out. No wonder such a massive and ugly colored car can disappear so easily."

Just as he grabbed onto his radio clipped to his belt to issue another update a horrible strike to the back of his skull rendered Gavin unconscious within seconds. Collapsing forward on the hard ground in a heavy heap Gavin was left vulnerable to whoever it was who had attacked him from behind, and confirmed that he had in fact been following the right trail.

* * *

Losing his already sparse patience Hank pushed back Dr. Brownstone's right hand as she used her penlight to check his pupils yet again, and tried to pull the nasal canula from under his nose for the second time. Doing so resulted in the attending nurse gently pulling Hank's own right hand down while Dr. Brownstone tried her best to get the uncooperative detective to hold still long enough to check his pupils.

"Please, Mr. Anderson. You suffered a severe blow to the head."

"I've been concussed before. I'll live." Checking the I.V. on the back of his left hand Hank held up the appendage for the doctor to see. "Take this out before I rip it out myself."

"That is ill advised."

"Not the first time I've been told that. Do it."

"I take it you plan on discharging yourself against medical advice?" Dr. Brownstone asked as she carefully removed the needle and canula from the back of Hank's hand as the senior detective had asked.

"You got it."

"Alright." Applying pressure to the freed vein with a white cottonball under her thumb she gave Hank a stern warning. "And you do realize as a result I'll have to inform your commanding officer that you're leaving."

"Not the first time for _that_ , either."

"Okay. I can't keep you here if you want to leave. Just take care of yourself and don't push yourself too hard."

"Yeah, yeah..." Waiting for the doctor to finish applying pressure to the vein on the back of his hand Hank pulled the nasal canula from his face at long last and proceeded to swing his legs over the edge of the bed to stand up. The movement hurt his ribs and made his head swim, but he wasn't about to lay back down when Connor was still missing and needed his help. "...I'll need my clothes."

The nurse nodded and proceeded to locate Hank's personal belongings. "Your commanding officer took your service weapon."

"That's fine. Just get me my clothes and my phone, that's all I'll need."

* * *

Slowly Gavin regained consciousness just as he felt someone tightening ropes around his chest, and then slamming a heavy metal door shut somewhere in the area around him. Opening his hazel eyes he blinked a few times to clear his vision as he lifted his head up from his slumped forward position in the chair, and glanced around the unfamiliar room where he found himself tied to a chair inside of a small space that barely passed as a room that was seemingly constructed solely of metal.

"What the... fuck?"

Looking to his left Gavin saw a transparent window looking out to a line of metal vats, large furnaces and massive mixing chambers. Turning his head to look to his right Gavin's eyes went wide with surprise as he saw another window peering into an adjacent metal chamber, and inside the chamber was Connor himself. The deviant was also bound to a chair in strong rope, his body was limp and his head was slumped to the side against his left shoulder.

Unlike Gavin he was still unconscious.

"Connor?" Gavin tried to get up from the chair but the ropes were too tight and too strong to break free from. "Damn it! Connor!" Shouting despite the loud sound echoing in the metal chamber hurting his throbbing head, he tried to get the deviant to respond. "Connor! Wake up you piece of plastic!"

From the neighboring chamber Connor's eyelids fluttered slightly before slowly opening. Sitting upright as best as he could in the chair Connor looked around and scanned his environment, tracing the sound that woke him up to Gavin who was a few feet to his left. "...Gavin."

"Finally! Hey, what the fuck happened?!"

Connor shook his head a little as he didn't know. Dark blue Thirium still running from the wound over his his right eye and the small cuts all over his face, neck and his chest under the tight ropes. "...Unknown."

"Where are we?"

Running another scan Connor analyzed the material used to construct the metal chambers, the large metal vats and the trace amount of chemicals in the air that his delicate sensors could detect with surprising ease. "...It appears we're in a textile plant."

"Why?"

"Textile plants create ideal housing for the manufacturing and storage of 'red ice', as well as other drugs."

"Fuck!" Gavin nearly threw his head back in frustration at the revelation. "We're being held captive by fucking 'red ice' dealers?"

"...That seems to be correct." Connor was having trouble keeping his posture ideal as his injuries and the subsequent pain made it too uncomfortable to sit upright properly. "The vehicle that struck Hank and myself was a sunset yellow 2037 Vault. I confirmed the license plate number six point two milliseconds before the impact rendered me unconscious."

"Fuckin' hell... Gotta' name to go with the plate?"

"Yes. The vehicle was registered to Reginald Olsen, who goes by the alias 'Striker'. He has been arrested in the past for holding, selling and using 'red ice'. He spent nine years in prison and was released six weeks ago."

"And I have a guess at the name of the arresting officer." Gavin tried to pull his hands free of the ropes that kept his wrists bound behind his back as he struggled where he sat. "Hank busted his ass, and now he wants to get back at him."

"That's the most likely cause, yes. Hank was in fact responsible for his arrest."

"Great. Just fuckin' great! Can't you send a message for help?"

"I've been attempting to send a message out through cybernetic communication the moment I regained consciousness, but the metal surfaces and other high dense minerals woven into the surrounding surfaces has been interfering with and deflecting my attempts to send a distress message."

"Keep trying!"

"I am actively doing so."

"What about the ropes? Can't you break free?"

"Under normal circumstances, yes. But these are currently abnormal circumstances."

"...Abnormal? How?"

"I am... damaged."

"Wait," narrowing his eyes a little Gavin tried to focus on Connor in the distance. "you're hurt?"

"Correct."

"Shit. How bad?"

Connor closed his eyes and ran a quick self-diagnostic. "My right shoulder has been dislocated rendering my right arm entirely useless. I suffered a severe blow to the right side of my cranium causing fractures around my right eye, and is currently causing mild disruption to my right optical unit. I have also suffered significant fractures to my axial frame surrounding the right side of my chest cavity and the anterior surface."

"I'm not a technician, asshole. All I understood was the dislocated shoulder part."

"...I have a mild concussion, partial blindness in my right eye and fractured ribs."

"Oh. That I understood!"

Focusing on Gavin's form a few feet away Connor ran a scan over the Sergeant and shook his head a little. "You're also suffering from a mild concussion. You suffered a significant blow to the occipital bone resulting in a hairline fracture."

"Great! Everyone's getting concussed tonight..."

Connor's eyelids began to droop a little and his head bowed forward. If the ropes weren't restraining him to the chair he would've fallen forward and passed out on the cold metal floor before him.

"Hey! Stay awake 'Tinman'! Think of a way for us to get outta' here!"

"I am... struggling."

"So am I! But I don't have a supercomputer in my head, so it's all up to you! Think of something!"

Understanding the severity of the situation Connor nodded a little and forced himself to remain conscious, overriding his system's attempts to enter emergency stasis mode in order to do so. "...I have managed to get the distress message through." He stated in a low groggy voice from where he sat. "...Help will arrive, soon."

"What about us getting free of these damn ropes?"

"...Without a knife I don't see how it's currently possible."

Blinking a few more times Connor looked up at the ceiling of the chamber he was being held in and recognized a massive ventilation pipe that allowed the toxic fumes from chemicals to be expelled into the chamber to be disposed of later on. Realizing that the ventilation pipe was a danger to Gavin if toxic fumes were to enter the chamber to be expelled later on Connor cybernetically tapped into the electronic controls and used the last of his energy to seal off the pipe to keep the human detective safe.

The metallic 'clunk' of the vent shutting echoed loudly throughout the plant, and was sure to alert their captors to their returned consciousness.

Gavin's brow furrowed as he looked up and tried to figure out what that sound was with a curious stare. "...What the hell was that?"

"Gavin, listen to me." Connor gave the Sergeant a stern look. "Don't struggle against the ropes. Remain quiet and play dead for a while."

"What? Why?"

"I suspect out captors will be back shortly." The deviant replied in a near whisper. "Remain quiet and don't interfere with what is about to happen."

"What's about to-"

"Quiet!"

Sure enough the two people who had struck Hank's vehicle, the man known as 'Striker' and a younger man, who was evidently a new recruit to Striker's gang, stood before the metal chambers and peered inside through the glass windows at his two captives.

Steadily Gavin bowed his head down and closed his eyes to feign unconsciousness as he listened very closely to everything happening around him.

The captors stood before the chambers like patrons watching animals at the exhibits at the zoo. Seeing Gavin 'still unconscious' Striker ignored him and walked over to the second chamber where Connor was now awake and watching his every move. "I knew when I got out prison things were going to change." He scoffed at Connor and gave him an amused stare. "But I didn't think they'd give plastic a badge!"

"...Striker." Connor addressed him by name and stared him down. "You do realize the assault and kidnapping of two police officers will result in a forty year minimum prison sentence, correct?"

"I don't give a shit! As soon as I take out that punk-ass cop who locked me up I'm good with going back prison."

"That doesn't make an sense."

"Hey, your partner put me in jail and I had to watch as my wife died from cancer from behind bars! I just wanted to spend her final minutes with her in the hospital, but because of that asshole cop I wasn't given ANY special privileges! She died ALONE!"

"What happened to your wife was tragic, but you broke the law and endangered countless lives with your distribution of 'red ice'. It's unfortunate that you only value life when it affects you personally."

"So because you think you can talk you think you can run your mouth and disrespect me?"

"I don't intend any disrespect. I'm merely stating facts."

"Well, remember this as a FACT." Walking right up to the window Striker gave Connor a hateful glare and pointed at the vent above his head. "Your partner is going to come in here, find your dead body and carry your worthless corpse out onto the street to be thrown out with the rest of the garbage. Then once he's done grieving over your death I'm going to put him out of his misery by putting a bullet in his head."

"If you harm Hank I swear to you-"

"I ain't afraid of no plastic when I'm packing heat." Showing Connor the gun he kept tucked into his waistband he motioned for his younger partner in crime to stay put and keep an eye on the two captive detectives. "Don't let these assholes out of your sight. Cops can't be trusted alone."

Striker took his leave of the room with the chambers while the younger man, who looked no older than sixteen, stood between the two chambers and watched Connor with a nervous stare.

Gavin lifted his head a little and looked over at the young man. Lowering his voice Gavin called out to him a calm tone to try to be a voice of reason. "Hey, kid?"

Turning to face Gavin the younger man stayed quiet as he locked eyes with the Sergeant.

"I know you don't want to do this. I can see it in your eyes."

Bowing his head with shame the poor kid responded in an entirely somber and frightened voice. "...I have to."

"No you don't. Let us go and we'll lock Striker up and keep him away from you."

"I can't do it."

"Sure you can. At least loosen my ropes and look the other way."

"He'll kick my ass. Maybe even kill me..."

"No. We'll protect you." The insistence in Gavin's voice was very palpable. "We know you're not doing this willingly, you're being forced into this. You're innocent and nothing will happen to you for helping two police officers."

"...I don't know. Striker's pretty pissed off."

Keeping his focus on the younger man and away from Striker's threatening presence Gavin addressed him with complete respect in his voice. "What's your name, kid?"

"What?"

"Your name. I'm Gavin," nodding toward Connor's direction he motioned to the deviant sitting in the chair observing the discussion. "that's Connor."

"...Charlie. My name's Charlie."

"Charlie, listen to me. You don't want to do this. If you help Striker kill us then you'll throw away your entire future. We can both see that you don't want to do anything to us, that's why you're not armed and why you're willing to actually talk to us."

"...If he catches me then-" The fear was evident and sincere in every word he whispered. "I just don't went to get labeled a rat. You know?"

"You won't. No one will know you were here. Just let us free and run before any shit goes down."

The young man looked around nervously and took a step toward the metal door leading to Gavin's chamber. "...What if I get caught?"

"We'll protect you. We'll keep your name anonymous and ensure you're safe, Charlie. Please. We both have families we need to take care of."

Nodding slowly as he fearfully made his decision Charlie agreed to help the two detectives. "...Okay." Opening the chamber door quietly he crept inside and placed an opened and very sharp switchblade in Gavin's hands behind his back. "...This is all I can do. I'm out!"

Exiting the chamber and closing the door Charlie stood outside the chamber door and didn't move or acknowledge either detective again. The younger man shared the same complexion, eye color and even build as Striker. It was evident he was a relative, a son or perhaps a nephew to Striker, and it made it simple to figure out why he was so afraid to help the detectives.

Gavin wasn't going to turn down the little help he had been provided or just sit there and do nothing. Using the switchblade he turned his hands in an uncomfortable but appropriate angle and began using the sharp blade to slowly saw through the ropes that were keeping his arms and upper body secured to the chair.

Slowly but surely the strong fibers began to sever and snap in course itchy braids all around his wrists and upper arms.

"...This is working. I'll be free soon enough, 'Tinman'."

Connor was losing the battle to remain conscious and closed his soulful brown eyes to enter a very light form of stasis as a means to jumpstart his self-healing program to repair a majority of the damage he had sustained from the car accident. Too tired and too weak to fight back or try to pry his arms free of the ropes all Connor could do was remain quiet where he sat and let the sweet bliss of unconsciousness take away the pain from his body and his mind.

* * *

Pushing through his own pain Hank walked outside the hospital and hailed an autonomous taxi to take him back to the precinct to check in with the ongoing investigation. As difficult as it was to walk with his chest burning from every movement and his head throbbing with every beat of his heart, he made it to his desk and turned on his terminal screen to check the progress on the case.

"Hank!" Captain Fowler caught sight of the wounded detective limping into the bullpen and stormed out of his office angrily. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"My job!"

"You know what I mean, Hank. Get your ass back to the hospital."

"AFTER I find Connor." Reading through the current report quickly after he turned on his terminal screen his brow furrowed, and he gave his commanding officer an unsure glance. "What the fuck happened with Reed?"

"Radio silence since he reported finding a possible lead. Tina and Chris are checking it our right now."

"Son of a bitch..."

Putting his left hand to his head he leaned forward against his right hand atop of his desk in frustration. As he did he felt his phone buzz in his from right pocket. Pulling the device from his pocket he examined the display screen and saw that he had just received a message from Connor.

"What the hell?" Checking the message Hank caught the lead he was looking for and showed the message to Captain Fowler. "Looks like Connor AND Gavin are together. They're being held hostage by... Fucking hell!"

"What?"

"Striker."

"Striker?" The name was uncomfortably familiar as he too had helped Hank work on the many 'red ice' busts that made Hank somewhat famous in the city a few years back. "The 'red ice' dealer you put away?"

"The asshole must've been released. It WAS personal damn it. I knew it..."

"Easy, Hank. Now that we know who we're looking for we can-"

"Fuck that." Pocketing his phone Hank took his leave of the precinct and set out to to hail another autonomous cab. "I'm not going to sit on my ass while everyone looks for this prick. He wants to make this personal? Fine. Wish granted asshole!"

* * *

With one final flick of the switchblade Gavin managed to slice through the rest of the ropes and freed his bound hands at long last. Unwilling to get up and move without a plan of action to guide his steps Gavin remained in his seat. Concealing the switchblade up the right sleeve of his leather jacket Gavin called out to Connor again, having to shout a little to rouse Connor back out of stasis mode again.

"Connor!" Raising his voice just enough to be heard Gavin called out to the unconscious deviant a few feet away. "Hey, dipshit, look at me!"

Hearing Gavin's voice was enough to make Connor open his eyes and look over at Gavin with his vision still partially hindered. "...Gavin?"

"My hands are free. Where do I go from here?"

Connor suddenly straightened up and nodded toward the the far wall of the large room where the single doorway as located. "Striker is returning."

The man in question stormed back to the two chambers and gave Connor a darkly amused look. "You know something, I think it'd be a waste of parts to have you killed. But on the other hand," glancing over at Gavin he gave him the same unsettling glare. "you're another cop. What would happen if I wasted your ass instead of a piece of plastic?"

"Either way the death of an officer would give you the same sentence." Connor refuted without missing a beat. "Do you really want to die over a petty grievance?"

"Some things are worth dying for."

"Pointless things?"

"You know what? Keep running your mouth, plastic. It'll be the last time you move." Giving the two detectives a ruthless sneer Striker turned his back on the captive duo. "I'll be back once your partner shows his sorry ass."

Connor waited for Striker to leave the room and leave them under Charlie's watch again before he spoke to Gavin in a low voice. "If Hank successfully received my message then he'll know where we are. I don't know if he'll come alone or not."

"If Hank's banged up from the accident then he's still stuck in the hospital."

"I doubt Hank would willingly remain in the hospital." Worried that Hank might do something reckless on his behalf Connor tried and failed to send another cybernetic message as his power level was too low to make a successful line of communication. "...I hope I didn't make a mistake in contacting him."

* * *

Stopping the autonomous cab along the same street where he spotted Gavin's own car idling on the side of the road Hank got out and inspected the vehicle. The car was left running which meant Gavin didn't plan on going far away, and the warmth from the engine told him that the car had been idling for almost an hour. The fact that the car hadn't been tampered with during that hour indicated that the street was purposefully deserted either out of fear of the police patrolling the area, or the fear of a drug dealing kingpin being in the area.

"Alright, Gavin. You said you found a sign of the damn S.U.V. in your last update." Opening the door to Gavin's car he turned off the engine and pocketed the key before locking the door and slamming it shut. "Where is this sign at?"

Scanning the street with the light from his phone and the street lamps above, his hand pressed again the left side of his chest where his ribs were fractured, and walked the street near the front of the still warm car. The light of his phone's screen glistened over the sharp shards of the broken headlights with yellow paint flakes over top of each shard.

"That's what he found..."

Eyeing the immediate location he too spotted the side street and walked down the alley to the gate barring further access. Checking the padlock and chain the two barring items fell freely from the gate and into his hand unexpectedly.

"Fuck. This place was shutdown in the 90's for being too toxic and dangerous." Pushing open the heavy gates with minor difficulty Hank crept inside and walked down the strange drive where the abandoned textile plant was sitting at at the end. "Fuck." Using his phone he informed Captain Fowler of the plant and the exact location before he reached the abandoned plant itself, and checked the front door. "Unlocked. This is a fuckin' set-up. I know it."

Reaching for his weapon only to remember that Captain Fowler had already taken it, Hank internally swore and slowly pushed open the door and kept his guard up. Slipping inside the building Hank stayed up against the walls of the dark building and kept quiet as he looked around for any sign of Connor or Gavin. As he made his way through the building he used the metal vats to creep around and stay out of sight, only to hear a young man's voice call out to him.

"...Are you Hank?"

Hank turned to face his left and saw a young man watching him nervously and looking around as if waiting for an ambush. "...What's it to you?"

"The cops you're looking for are in the back. Striker is going to do something to them but I don't know what."

"How do you know?"

"He's my uncle and he's out for blood. I don't want to be apart of it."

"Alright, here's what you're going to do." Hank was willing to trust the young man out of desperation and a need to get to Connor before it was too late. "Get out of here, go down the drive and call 911. Tell them where to go and tell them Hank told you to call, stay anonymous and hang up."

"O-Okay. Yeah, I'll do it."

"Good. Go now!"

As the young man, Charlie, took his leave of the building Hank followed his directions and walked to the back of the plant with every intention of leaving only with Connor and Gavin, nothing less. Walking deeper into the plant Hank found the doorway leading to the back and was greeted by the sight of the two large metal chambers holding both Connor and Gavin captive.

"...Kid." Knowing better than to rush forward or make a sound Hank cautiously crept along the wall until he reached the metal chamber holding Connor captive in the chair. "Hey, Connor."

The deviant had sensed Hank's arrival through constant scanning and knew he was in the room beside him. "...Hank, you shouldn't have come here alone."

"I wasn't going to sit on my ass and do nothing. How bad are you hurt?"

"It doesn't matter. Right now you need to leave before Striker gets back." Without looking at him as a means of keeping as low of a profile as possible in case Striker was watching from a distance he asked for Hank to leave him be. "Don't do anything to free me. You'll need back-up. Get Gavin."

"Don't worry about it. Help is coming."

"How soon?"

"Don't know, but hopefully FAST." Peering into the chamber through the window Hank saw the dried Thirium staining his face and shoulders, and could see his right shoulder was still dislocated at a painful angle. He could also see that the deviant was having trouble breathing. Looking past Connor he saw Gavin in the second chamber and nodded in his general direction. "What about Gavin? How bad is he hurt?"

"Hank, go."

"Not without you BOTH."

The lights in the room suddenly flashed to their brightest illumination causing the three occupants of the room to squint their eyes due to the relentlessly bright light. Hank held up his right hand to shield his eyes while Connor blinked a few times until his visual processors adjusted, and Gavin looked down at the floor and closed his eyes as tightly as possible to block out the painful light.

"Sergeant Hank Anderson." Striker taunted from the doorway as he walked into the room and pointed his gun at the seasoned detective. "It's been nine fuckin' years, but here you are at last."

"I've been promoted, asshole. You still goin' by Striker or did you move up and take a new title, too? You look more like a 'Prison Bitch' to me."

"Watch it old man." Motioning with the barrel of the gun for Hank to move over toward the center of the room to stand between the two metal chambers. He gave Hank a blank and cold stare as the detective moved as directed. "Now I know where that piece of plastic got his mouth."

"And I'm sure what any piece of plastic has to say is more important than any of the bullshit you're trying to spew. What the fuck is this about?"

"Revenge."

"If you want to shoot me then shoot me. I ain't got all night. But if you don't have the balls to squeeze the trigger then I suggest you turn around and run out of here before your ass gets dragged back into your prison cell."

"Fearless as ever, huh, Hank? I gotta' admire that."

"Do what you want with me, but let these two go. Gavin had nothing to do with that case and Connor wasn't even alive when I made the bust." Standing his ground Hank made it clear that he wasn't going to back down. "You have a problem with me then you settle it with me. You don't drag innocent people into this type of shit."

"Innocent? All you cops do is lock people away and break up families!"

"We're PROTECTING people. That's the JOB. Then there's you draggin' that poor kid into your personal shit."

"You need to watch your fuckin' mouth. Don't forget who's holding the gun right now."

"What do you want from me? I'm losing my patience here."

"You locked me up and I wasn't there for my wife when she died. And I want you to know that feeling. Those chambers behind you are designed to hold toxic fumes that get pumped in from the ventilation shafts. Anything that inhales those fumes will suffocate in less than two minutes. It's kinda' like those gas chambers you cops send so many people into."

"A life for a life. Is that it?"

"You got it."

"Fine."

Connor's eyes went wide as he called out in protest. "Hank, no! Don't give up your life just to placate him!"

Gavin was quick to agree and chimed in. "That's just what he wants, Hank! Don't play his fucked up game!"

"Let them go." Hank wasn't going to let Connor or even Gavin die because of some thug with a grudge. "And I'll stay."

Striker wasn't in the mood to negotiate. "Nah, you see, I want you to WATCH. I want you to FEEL. Can't see or feel nothing if you're already dead." Keeping his gun pointed at Hank's head Striker walked over to the control panel mounted on the far wall of the room and pressed a single override button. "You get to choose and watch. I'm granting you a courtesy that I was denied."

As the plant whirred to life Hank could see the telltale residue of 'red ice' that had been readily and massively created inside the factory floor, and knew exactly what was going to be pumped through the ventilation system and into those metal chambers. Pure concentrated poison.

"Back off, Striker." Hank ordered in a fearless tone of voice. "I'll gladly take their places and die for them."

"No. That's not how it's going to work." Pointing at the chambers he smirked as he hovered his hand over another button on the control panel. "You choose who dies first. The real cop or the plastic pretender."

Connor shouted out in loud protest to try to sway the decision. "Hank! It's okay! Let Gavin live!"

Gavin of course wasn't the type to let someone else put down their life for his, even if that person wasn't someone he had always seen eye-to-eye with in the past. "No way! He's your partner! It's gotta be-"

"SHUT UP." Hank shouted to stop the debate as he had already made up his mind. "I choose MYSELF."

"No. One of them."

"I told you my choice, now either accept it or fuck off!"

"Fine... If that's how you want to play." Striker pressed both buttons on the panel causing the ventilation system to expel the toxic fumes into both chambers at once, rather than one or the other. "Then they'll both go."

Hank turned around and saw the toxic pale red tinted fumes pouring down from the vent as Striker had threatened, but the fumes entered only in Connor's chamber. The slats of the vent in Gavin's chamber had already been shut by Connor effectively protecting the human from the poison.

The deviant shutdown his ventilation program to hold his breath and prevent the poison from entering his system, and in doing so his visual processor brought up a display informing him of his steadily rising core temperature. Connor had only two minutes until the ventilation program would automatically resume it's normal function, and would not be overridden.

"Fuck! Connor?!"

"Piece of shit!" Striker swore as he frantically began pressing the button for Gavin's chamber to try to force the vents to open but they were locked tight.

Seeing an opportunity Hank charged at Striker as quickly as he could and grabbed hold of his arm to hold back the gun.

Gavin immediately began struggling to get free of his ropes at the sight of the younger, uninjured drug dealer fighting with Hank. He didn't need to be a medic to know that Hank was in absolutely no condition to hold his own in a direct fight. "Fuck!"

"Help Hank!" Connor called out to Gavin as he kept tabs on his countdown while watching the struggle from the distance.

"What about you?" Getting off the last of the ropes he focused on forcing the heavy metal door open and rushing out to join in the fight.

"Just worry about Hank! I can wait..."

With the door back open Gavin bolted over to the struggle and wrapped his arm around Striker's throat and applied as much pressure as he could against the criminal's windpipe. Even with his air being cut off Striker wasn't going to let up on the fight, but Gavin had another plan. Using the switchblade he had used to cut free his ropes he stabbed the knife into Striker's right forearm causing not only pain, but a sudden weakness in his grip around the gun.

"FUCK!"

"LET GO!" Gavin ordered as he tightened his arm around Striker's throat. "THERE'S NO POINT IN FIGHTING!"

With Gavin's chokehold over Striker's throat wearing him down and the fresh wound to Striker's arm weakening the dangerous man, Hank was able to pull the gun free of Striker's hand and throw it across the floor. Tightening his right hand into a large strong fist Hank reeled back and struck Striker in his jaw knocking the criminal out cold in one fell swoop.

As Striker lost consciousness Gavin let go of his throat and watched as the deranged criminal passed out and fell face first onto the cold, hard surface of the plant floor.

"Fucking bastard..." Hank griped as he fell to his knees and pulled his cuffs from the back of his belt and secured Striker's hands, one bloody and the other intact, behind his back. "Don't fuck with my family."

"You okay?" Gavin asked as he caught his breath and took a step back.

"...Fine." Hank lied through gritted teeth as he forced himself to stand upright and rush over to where Connor was still secured in the chamber. "Connor! We'll get you out of there, son."

"Hank..." Connor's countdown only had twelve seconds left. "don't open the chamber or you'll be poisoned. You have to turn off the vent."

"How? Where's the shutoff control?"

"The panel."

Hank nodded as he limped as quickly as he could to the panel. The buttons were all labeled but the text had long since faded. "Which one?"

"I don't-" Connor coughed as he had no choice but to breathe in again, and the poisoned readily entered his ventilation biocomponents. "Try... 'Expel'."

"I don't see it!" Hank shouted in impatient response. "What else?"

"Try-" Coughing cut him off and he was suddenly unable to speak as his visual processors were bombarded in red warnings regarding the toxins in the air and of his ventilation biocomponents steadily becoming compromised. "...Try... sh-shut... shutdown."

Gavin rushed over to the panel where Hank was struggling to figure out the right controls and eyed each button carefully. Spotting a bright red switch with 'Emergency Shutdown' barely legible beside it he threw the switch and heard the groan of the vents shutting down. "Got it!"

Connor nodded weakly as he began coughing more and soon was unable to breathe at all. His eyes fell shut as his breathing became more labored and a haunting wheezing filled the chamber.

"CONNOR?!" Desperate to get to his adopted son Hank tried to run over to him at the chamber, but his injuries were too limiting. "Connor! Hang on!"

Gavin on the other hand had pure adrenaline running through his veins and was able to sprint over to the chamber without any problem. Pulling his dark gray t-shirt up over his nose and mouth to block the lingering fumes he pulled open the metal door and used the now blood covered switchblade to slice through Connor's ropes.

Within seconds Connor's arms were freed of the ropes and fell limp at his sides as the binds fell away.

Grabbing onto the deviant around his upper chest and under his arms Gavin dragged the unconscious, poisoned deviant out of the chamber and into the middle of the factory floor. Slamming the chamber door shut behind him with a swift kick of his foot Gavin awkwardly carried Connor to safety and all but dropped to his knees.

"Shit..." Gavin swore as he laid Connor down on his back on the floor and pressed his right hand down over the center of his Connor's chest. He could feel the Thirium pump beating but it wasn't beating properly. There was also a noticeable heat radiating from Connor's artificial skin from overheating, but what was more worrying was the fact that Connor wasn't breathing. "Hank! He's out of it! I don't think he's breathing, or whatever it is androids do!"

Struggling to get back to his feet Hank stumbled forward and collapsed to his knees beside Connor on the ground and put his right hand over Connor's chest next to Gavin's hand. "...His ventilation program isn't working. We need to jumpstart it."

"How?"

"It's like... respiratory arrest. Get him to take in a breath. Compress his chest."

"Fucking hell..."

"Move aside." Hank pulled open Connor's stained, torn up white dress shirt to expose his damaged chest and proceeded to lay one hand over top of the other and interlock his fingers together to create a single fist. Afterward he put his fist down over the center of Connor's chest and began to compress. "...Fuck!"

"No, let me do it." Gavin pushed Hank back and began to perform the compressions on the wounded detective's behalf. "You're too hurt to do this." Counting to fifteen compressions Gavin pressed his ear down to Connor's chest but didn't hear him take in a breath. "Fuck! Where's back-up?!"

"Don't know, just keep it up!"

Gavin nodded as he began a second round of compressions. With each forceful press of Connor's chest a little more of the poison he had been forced to inhale was forcefully exhaled in weak fleeting gasps of red tinted vapor. The pressure was enough to cause Connor's chest to buckle under Gavin's strength, but not enough to cause further damage to his already fractured plastimetal chassis beneath.

"Come on, Connor." Putting his right hand on the deviant's forehead Hank looked down at his adopted son's face and just shook his head. "Breathe. You HAVE to breathe, kid."

The sound of boots stomping through plant and toward the doorway told the detectives that back-up had finally arrived, but it may have been too late to do anything to help Connor.

"Breathe, damn it!" Hank shouted as he watched Gavin's hands compressed the deviant's broken chest. "Breathe."

Seemingly out of nowhere Connor coughed and then took in a deep, cleansing breath at long last.

As more coughing followed Gavin pulled back his hands and fell back to sit down on the floor and wiped sweat from his brow on the right sleeve of his leather jacket. "Thank fuck..."

"That's it!" Hank encouraged as he put his right hand under Connor's head and lifted him up from the floor. "Keep breathing, son. I got you."

"Detroit police!" Captain Fowler stormed through the factory with other officers behind him, their guns drawn and ready for a firefight. Seeing the three detectives on the floor and Striker in cuffs a few feet away told the seasoned officer exactly what had happened. "Shit." Using his radio he asked for medics to enter the building to tend to the four men. "We need paramedics and a technician in here now. Three humans, one deviant. All in need of help."

Hank didn't budge from the floor as he held Connor up from the floor and watched as the unconscious deviant continued to breathe in steadily and rapidly.

"It's okay, son. We'll get you some help."

* * *

Two days after the car accident Hank was cleared from the hospital as long as he had someone to keep an eye on him, to which Connor readily volunteered, and Connor himself was cleared from the facility under the same conditions. Sitting side by side on the worn out, but still comfortable couch in the middle of the livingroom, Hank pressed a bag of ice to his ribs and a second bag of ice to the back of his head while Connor pressed an ice pack to his own 'ribs' with his left hand, as his right arm was stuck in a sling for another twenty-four hours until his self-healing program repaired all the damage to his dislocated shoulder.

"I just received an update from the precinct." Connor stated in a low voice as he opened his eyes. "Striker is being charged on numerous accounts of assault, abductions and breaking and entering. He will return to jail and do so without the possibility of parole."

"I guess the system works after all."

"And Charlie will not be charged with any crimes. He and his mother will be placed into protective custody away from Striker and his connections."

"Everyone's being taken care of. But I still need to get another car." Hank lamented as looked out the side window to the empty driveway beside the house. "I hope I can find another one like that old car. I don't like autonomous vehicles."

Connor smirked a little as he cybernetically started downloading information on used cars in the city. "...There is a 2022 Oldsmobile for sale downtown."

"Anything a little newer?"

A 2027 Oldsmobile is also available, but for five thousand additional dollars."

"I'll consider it."

"I'll help you pay it off. It's the least I can do."

"No, right now the least you can do is let Sumo back inside for me. I don't want to get up again unless I absolutely need to."

"What would necessitate that?"

"Right off the top of my head: a piss break."

"Oh. I suppose that would be necessary." The deviant got up from the couch slowly and walked to the backdoor to let the massive dog back inside the house, and was of course greeted with a cold nose to his left hand. "Good boy." Grabbing a fresh pack of ice from the freezer Connor followed Sumo back into the livingroom to continue to rest. "I'm glad Sumo knows not to jump on me right now."

"I'm glad you and Gavin made it out of that plant alive. I honestly don't know what I would've done if that asshole took away my best partner and my best friend in one stupid act of revenge."

"Since when were you and Gavin friends?"

"Smartass. You know what I mean!"

"I do, Hank. Thank you for saving my life." Sitting down on the couch beside his adoptive father again Connor was met with Sumo pressing his chin down over his lap and wanting some ear rubs, to which Connor happily agreed to go. "I wish I knew why so many people hold onto such toxic grudges for so long."

"Humans are an imperfect species, Connor. It's just one of our many, MANY flaws!"

"You're not so bad."

"Yeah, now that I sobered up and stopped hating androids for existing."

"Even when you were still drinking and less than thrilled to have me as a partner I never thought you were a bad guy. Just angry."

"Angry, huh? How do you think I felt when I saw that bastard had you locked up in that metal chamber?"

"...Pissed off?"

"Bingo." Sighing and wincing at the motion Hank just gave his partner a somber glance. "I never want to go through anything like that ever again."

"The feeling is mutual."

"Feeling, huh? Those deviant emotions must be really settling into your core."

"More like the urge to protect my friends and my only family makes me understand why and how emotions can be so powerful. Joy can be as powerful as anger, and with that power no one else gets hurt. That's why I don't understand grudges that favor the negative emotions."

"Good. Don't ever hold one." Hank put his his right hand on Connor's left shoulder lightly and patted once. "If there's anything that I can teach you in this lifetime, whether it's as your partner, your friend or your father, it's to NEVER let anger control you. Let go of your hatred and your pain before it consumes you."

"I'll remember to do that, Hank." The deviant's voice was sincere and full of kindness as he spoke. "I promise."

"That's good to know."

Connor ran a scan over Hank's form and saw his elevated vitals that were indicative of pain and physical stress. "...Need more ice?"

"Yup. I'm still sore as fuck."

Suspecting as much Connor handed Hank the fresh ice that he took from the freezer before returning to the livingroom, then leaned back into the soft cushions of the couch. "Need me to place an order for a pizza as well?"

"Hell yeah!" Hank liked that generous idea very much. A hot pizza and fresh ice packs sounded like the best home remedy. "Fuck cooking... I need to rest, and so do you."

The reaction was very amusing and Connor smiled a little more as he cybernetically placed the order for the pizza. "Consider it done."

_**-End of Story-  
** _


End file.
